Surprise, Surprise
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: Post-The Last Olympian. This is not how Nico di Angelo expected his belated birthday to go: in the dank, dark, depths of the Underworld, with his lunatic relative trying to convince him to take up farming.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

**Surprise, Surprise  
by.** _Poisoned Scarlett_

He doesn't want to be here. To be fair, he _never_ wants to be here—in this dark and dank place, where the shadows are cold and the dead like chatting him up when they're feeling particularly repenting; as if speaking to the son of Hades will somehow atone for their mistakes, as if in paying their respects they will somehow have their load lightened. Nico doesn't try to convince them otherwise, however, he lets them speak and he leaves when the guardians of the dead begin to eye him warningly.

The last thing he needs is to anger _another_ dark entity.

But when he can, he is not in the Underworld. He is elsewhere, where the shadows stretch long but they're empty. He dwells in places of nature, even if the dryads send him resentful looks. He likes nature, how quiet it is, how accepting of him it is, how it seems to breathe through him and not mind the smell of death he radiates. It's welcoming and warm and affectionate and eager—it fills that empty space inside of him that's in the shape of his sister, of his mother, of Percy.

"This was a _horrible_ idea," Hades mutters from his throne, his fingers tapping on the armrest one by one. Nico tries not to let it get to him as he looks up at his father. "Demeter, I don't have time—!"

"Nonsense!" the old hag laughs, seemingly the only one who does not mind the fact that they're currently experiencing a very awkward family reunion. Nico is still angry at Persephone for turning him into a vine last week, and Hades is angry at Nico for disappearing for another three weeks without a call, and Persephone is angry at her Demeter for suggesting such a ridiculous idea like a _birthday party _for her husband's bastard child just because she heard some bratty high school students mention cupcakes being high in fiber. "Nico has never had a proper birthday celebration, have you, child?"

_"No,"_ Nico grits out, sinking in his seat when Demeter sends Hades a frank smile. Nico drops his eyes to the cold marble table—black, of course, because his family doesn't believe in color. He bitterly thinks that he'd probably have more fun at Camp Half-Blood and he usually didn't have fun there unless Percy was there to coarse him into playing fair. "I don't care how old I am. I don't care about birthdays. As far as I know, they're unimportant."

"That's the lack of fiber talking," Demeter eyes him, prodding his arm suddenly. Nico flinches, lip lifted in a sneer, but Persephone acts first:

"Respect my mother, you ungrateful little…" She trails off, her eyes slitted with disdain.

"I didn't do anything!"

"My lord!" Persephone cries, snapping her head to Hades. Her features are bright and lively; the only thing that is seemingly alive at the moment. Nico curses the summer. "Control your _son!_"

"Child, stop." Hades tone is dry, uninterested; he's more focused on the pool of souls he's twirled on his lap. He's probably working, Nico thinks, checking out something or the other. Because the god of the Underworld has no breaks as far as he knows.

Persephone purses her lips.

Nico tries not to smirk darkly at his stepmother when she glances at him with a haughty sniff. He spots a shade by his side and, when he slips his hand into it, he curses when it's unresponsive. He shoots a resentful look at his father, whose lip has quirked up although he has not looked up since Demeter gathered them. But Nico knows he's smug, thinking he's got him right where he wants him. He doesn't know how many times he has tried to blend into the shadows and leave. This might be his sixth attempt. His father, however, can be stubborn when he desires and has a tendency for sealing up the shadows when they're within his range. Nico is not the only one who cannot stand his godly relatives—

He cynically thinks this is why Hades sought out mortal distractions. They were easier to deal with and when they died, they just ended up back with him, anyway. He stops, though, stops the thought because it's painful. He thinks about Bianca and his chest tightens and his throat chokes up. He sinks lower into his seat. He doesn't like thinking about Bianca and death, even if death is one of the things he is best at manipulating.

"CHILD!" Demeter bellows. Nico snaps his head up, bewildered. "EAT YOUR FIBERS!"

He stares at the cupcake from hell. It's black. It's literally black and he wonders if it's just a burnt block of fiber. "Is this is even _edible?_"

"_Of course_ it is! When have you ever been fed anything inedible?" Persephone huffs.

Nico stares at her.

She scowls and he reaches for the cupcake, not in the mood for another argument with his cursed stepmother. He realizes it's frosting when he pokes a finger into the top and, when he takes a bite, it doesn't have the lingering taste of death. He takes another bite, munching on his supposed cake idly and ignoring his raving grandmother. Relatives were pains, Demeter was just insane.

"Good, good! He's finally eating something nutritious! Honestly, I'm surprised you two have kept him alive for this long! He's hardly eaten anything nutritious! He should be dead by now!"

"Mother, we live in the Underworld!"

"That doesn't mean he can't eat well," Demeter insists. She turns to him, smiles widely. She's the most agreeable since ever, Nico notes dryly. It's probably because he's eating her bloody fibers. "How do you feel, child? Better?"

"It's ok," he shrugs.

"SEE?!"

"Demeter, would you quiet down? You're waking the dead!" Hades snapes, spreading an arm to the wailing dead outside.

"They're always awake!"

_"Mother!" _

"Can we get to my presents now?" Nico speaks up, silencing everyone. They look at him with confusion. That is, until Hades realizes what he means and he looks at Persephone, who is glaring at her mother.

"Of course! My dearest son-in-law," Demeter begins, with a tang of sarcasm, "Why don't you go first?"

"You're alive, aren't you?" Hades tells Nico, without looking up. Nico didn't expect anything else. He only nods, looks down and tries not to let it get to him. His father has always been hard to deal with, and expecting anything, especially a selfless gift, is laughable at best.

"Daughter?" Demeter moves along, eager. Nico dearly hopes she doesn't _actually_ have a present for him— either of them.

"I…I shall, refrain.. from turning you into a weed," Persephone states, stiffly. She is not looking at him, but he's sure she can sense his wide-eyes. Hades flicks through something in his pool of the undead, seemingly not listening. "But only for a week!"

"Good enough," Nico shrugs.

"As for I!" Demeter begins, reaching into her willowy shawl. Nico can't help it: he's curious. But his curiosity is quickly squashed when she pulls out a long stick, wrapped in what seems to be that loud brown wrapping paper. "I believe this will aid you in the near-future. It is a blessing, from your dearest grandmother. You are an adequate child."

Nico stands up, staring at the stick in her hand blankly. He wants to turn around and leave, because he has an idea of what it is and he doesn't like it, but he stays because his father would only rage over his walk-out. His stepmother would probably forget her gift and turn him into something worse, like another flower or something. He doesn't want to risk it, not right now.

His chest still warms though, slightly, at the comment. Adequate? He will take what he can get.

"Thanks," Nico says, awkwardly, taking the stick-thing from his godly relative. He holds it in his hand for a second, until Persephone snaps at him to open it and not gawk at it like a fool. After a burning glare at her, he does what he is told. "Wonder what it is…" He mutters, not at all curious. The paper falls away to reveal, surprise surprise— "A rake. Great."

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"For death's sake," Hades groans. He doesn't even bother; he just goes back to his pool of the undead, rubbing his forehead.

"What the heck am I supposed to do with this?"

"You respect my mother, you—!"

"Quiet! He's simply curious!"

"Mother," Persephone whines.

"Why, my boy, the things you can do with such a gift!" Demeter glides over to him, ignoring her daughter fully. Persephone sticks her nose in the air, twirling a vine between her fingers as if itching to have Nico relive that terrible experience. For once, he's glad for his maddening relative.

"Do you know what you can do with a rake? You can comb life into the earth, you can have all of the cereals your heart desires! It also makes for an adequate, albeit temporary, weapon if used correctly. And if you are your father's son, you shall find an appropriate use for it," she ends, brightly.

"Of course. Because my enemies will cower at the sight of a _rake_," Nico deadpans. He thinks his father laughed, but he can't be sure. Whenever his father laughs, it's usually because someone died. He stifles a sigh and tries not to rattle the bones of the dead beneath his feet too much.

His party doesn't last long. After Demeter's blessing, it disbands like it never happened at all, and his father returns to his duties and his step-mother continues to tend to her garden. Demeter disappears as she always does when she's not needed in the Underworld, and Nico is left by himself again. He doesn't mind—tries not to let it get to him, really: he's always been alone. It's fine. He ruffles his hair, sighs in frustration. He glances at the rake propped against the marble table and snatches it after a seconds thought, dragging it through the muddled, dead, ground of his father's realm. He reaches Persephone's garden, finds her absent, but doesn't think too deeply into it. She cannot leave for another half-year; he doesn't care what she does while she's with his father. He doesn't care for her at all, to be honest.

He knows the feelings are mutual.

Nico leaves the rake by a clump of diamonds and rubies and leaves without another glance, his fingers skimming the shadows. They're cold, but they're welcoming, and he closes his eyes and blends in with them. The rush of wind doesn't bother him anymore—the terrifying falling sensation, the cold that seeps into his bones and up his neck don't affect him, either. He thinks he's always had ice in his bones, his blood. It's nothing new, it just has a name now.

When he steps out of the shadows, he's back at Camp Half-Blood, and the torches that light the cabins are bright under the dark sky. He's tired, as he always is when he travels through shadows, but before he can take a step he freezes, his eyes slitting at the sight of his blasted relative's _rake_. It's propped against the side of his cabin innocently, but Nico knows better. That thing won't leave him alone, will it? Not until he uses it or breaks or something.

So it really _had_ been a blessing.

He curses in Greek; this isn't right. He wonders if one of the Demeter kids would like a blessing from their whack-job mother before he decides it'd only come back to him. It was _his_ rake, after all. His infuriatingly useless rake.

Nico storms into his cabin and the shadows stretch long, as if heeding his anger, the bones of dead animals buried underground beginning to surface with the strength of his frustration.

Maybe if he pretended it didn't exist then it would go away, Nico decides that night, trying not to think about the rake that's just outside his cabin.

After all, how long can a blessing from the goddess of wheat and _grass _last?

* * *

"Hey, uh," Percy hesitates, pointing to his right. The sun is high above them, hot. He wonders if being a child of the Underworld means always being cold or something because Nico still has his jacket on. "Nico? Is that…rake haunted or something? Because I could've sworn I saw it last week when we were playing capture the flag, and the week before that—!"

"No," Nico hisses. The floor cracks, his aura darkens. The air has grown eerily cold. "It _wasn't." _

"_Riiight_," Percy answers, dubiously, deciding not to talk about freaky haunted rakes since Nico might summon more of the dead. That was never a good thing. The dead smelled, well, _dead_.

Beside him, Nico fumes and the rake continues to silently mock him from against the tree. Nico will get that blasted Demeter back for this, somehow. When he manages to destroy her stupid rake blessing.

* * *

**A/N: **My first Percy Jackson fanfiction! I hope I did the characters justice.

_Scarlett._


End file.
